


Team VENM (Venom) Volume 2: The Deep Breath

by DiomedesofAnima



Series: Team VENM [3]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Action/Adventure, Getting Darker, LGBTQ+ characters, Multi, OCs everywhere, Team VENM (OC), put those torches and pitchforks away you'll get your Arkos and Bumbleby, starting to get darker, will have content warnings in the notes before every chapter, yes I will actually focus on canon characters a lot more from here on out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-04-19 12:58:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14237790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiomedesofAnima/pseuds/DiomedesofAnima
Summary: After the events of Volume One, things have been quiet around Beacon, unnaturally so. But with a murder in a city bookshop and the mysterious arrival of three new students, claiming to be from Mistral, Teams VENM, RWBY, JNPR, and CFVY find themselves bracing for sh*t to really hit the fan, all while still trying to figure this whole Hunter thing out and find dates for the dance.





	1. Prologue: Blood on the Pages

                Beacon wasn’t a city known for violence. More often than not, the concepts of “gang warfare” and “murder sprees” were attributed in the public eye to the outskirt cities of Vacuo and the wildlands of Anima, not to the orderly and peaceful kingdom of Vale. Here, people walked freely, night or day, without a care in the world or a hand anxiously guarding their wallet. Any crimes committed in the city were quickly resolved and the perpetrators were swept under the rug before the public had much time to even worry or take notice.

                None of this helped Detective Harry Weston as he watched Beacon’s crime scene investigation team go about attaching numbered yellow stickers to what seemed to be every last piece of wood in the book store. It’s not that they were being overzealous in their work, it was more that there was so very much to comb through. Whatever had transpired here an hour ago must have been a horrifying scene, or at least the mass of wooden and paper debris surrounding the body in the center seemed to suggest as much.

                Weston cracked another sunflower seed’s shell lightly between his molars, just enough to allow him to sweep the seed from the shell without crushing it before spitting the empty husk into a small plastic bag he kept on his person. Beacon City was getting restless as of late, and crimes had dropped to nearly nothing until now. A murder in broad daylight, even behind closed doors, hadn’t happened here in decades.

                “So what do we got?” Weston asked, spitting another shell into the baggie. “Is there an ID on the victim yet?”

                One of the officers nodded, his face pale and looking like he was about to lose his lunch and a few meals he might not have even had yet. Weston recognized him as a veteran on the force, and frowned. Not much got to this guy, but when it did…

                “His name’s Adrian Tukson,” the officer responded, gulping down loudly. “He’s got his name over the storefront. He opened this place about five years ago, but it’s never seen a whole lot of business.”

                “Yeah, haven’t we had this place under investigation as a money-laundering front for the White Fang for a few months?” Weston asked, suddenly remembering why “Tukson’s Book Trade” was such a familiar name. “I didn’t think the guy was a big enough cog in the machine to warrant this kind of treatment…”

                The officer gestured over his shoulder, and then politely excused himself outside for some much-needed fresh air. Weston slipped on a pair of latex gloves and approached the covered body, wrinkling his nose in distaste. It hadn’t been long enough for the smell of decay to kick in, but the iron reek of blood on the floor sent his insides churning all the same.

                As he lifted the tarp over the body, Weston recoiled immediately in disgust. Tukson’s head had been wrenched around on the spine so savagely that it had completed a 360-degree spin and torn the flesh in a wide ring just above the collarbones, and blood was only just starting to weakly congeal at the site of the tears. A single massive impact wound was visible on the left side of his face, delivered with such extreme force that it had prevented swelling of the tissue and actually caved the face in around the impact. A single bullet hole was visible at the center, something that struck Weston as unnecessary given the fact that the first impact had clearly gotten the job done. Unless…

                “This was inflicted with a Huntsman’s weapon,” Weston mumbled darkly to himself, retrieving a magnifying glass and pen light from his lapel. “Or a Huntress. Dust, as if this wasn’t bad enough already.”

                After inspecting the wound for a moment, Weston pulled a recorder from his pocket and flipped it on. “Victim is one Adrian Tukson. Male, approximately six and a half feet tall, and…around two hundred pounds at a glance,” Weston began, ignoring the cops rushing busily around him to mark up the crime scene. “Time of death, according to on-site medical evaluation, was roughly one hour ago, at thirteen-hundred hours, BCT. Subject died of combination blunt-force trauma to the head and neck, which severed the spinal cord below the head, and a single small-caliber gunshot wound to the same location of the head, in the left temple.”

                He took a breath and allowed himself a seat on the one chair in the shop that wasn’t marked with an evidence tag before continuing. “Both the blunt force impact and gunshot wound were delivered to the victim at roughly the same time, meaning that this was committed with a complex weapon, and not something improvised like one of those intimidatingly large encyclopedias behind the counter. My immediate reaction is to assume we’ve got a rogue Huntsman or Huntress somewhere in the city, presumably with ties to the White Fang, given that Tukson himself was under investigation for ties to the same group.”

                “Damage to the surrounding shop seems to have been inflicted after the fact rather than during the fight, which was likely settled in a single blow,” Weston continued, casting a casual glance over the rest of the store. “Someone wanted this to look like a hold-up or ransacking gone wrong, and they did a very poor job of hiding what they were really here for. Tukson’s body shows no signs of a fight beyond the immediate wounds, and both the force and deliberateness of the attacks seem to implicate premeditation in the killing.”

                Weston sighed, stopping the recording there as he took in the wreckage around him. He’d visited the place once, just once, before he had opened an investigation into the place as a money-laundering scheme. Tukson had seemed nice enough, and if he really was with the White Fang, he hid it well. He’d smiled with a sincerity to the gesture at Weston’s presence, even if he was clearly caught off guard by the prospect of having a customer.

                Part of Weston had wished he’d never opened the investigation. It felt strange, when the man running the place was hardly a threat to anyone. But he knew the law, and so did Tukson. There had been an obligation to investigate and do it thoroughly.

                There was a buzzing at Weston’s hip, and he retrieved his phone. “Detective Weston speaking,” he answered. “What do you need, Chief?”

                “How bad is it down there, Weston?” the Chief asked curtly. “News reports are coming in left and right about a crowd of civvies gathering outside the shop and getting mighty curious.”

                Weston swore as he realized that the sound of hushed whispers had been coming from outside the shop this whole time. He hadn’t expected the public to get so nosy so fast.

                “It’s pretty gruesome, Sir. It looks like we’ve got a rogue Hunter carrying out hits for the White Fang,” he answered frankly. “I’ll keep you posted, but I’ve got to wrap this scene up quick and get the body out of here.”

                Weston hung up and ran a hand through his graying hair as Tukson was packed into a body bag and carried toward the door. Ever since those kids had busted the White Fang operation at the docks, crime had dropped sharply. No, it hadn’t just dropped; the crime rate had hit absolute zero altogether. That sort of event didn’t just happen without coordination on a high level, and with Torchwick still on the run, Weston’s gut told him this was not going to last.

                He felt like Beacon was rushing towards the edge of a cliff, blindfolded and unaware of the abyss they were about to step over. They wouldn’t know what was coming until it hit them, and what scared Weston the most was the knowledge that he couldn’t do much to stop whatever was coming.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A notice as of 4/18/2018:  
> As I stated at the opening of VENM, Volume 1, the characters in this series who comprise Team VENM were concieved by myself and two close friends in the span of roughly a month after RWBY's Volume 3 Finale, back in February of 2016. Since then, we've been working over plot details and character development in several documents, all of them leading up to my release of the complete Volume One of VENM on AO3 roughly a month ago (I began writing the chapters in summer of 2016). Eliza Aurum, Verris Emedio, Nero Boudica, and Marcus Avalok were all created by myself, R. and L., as our respective original characters for this fan series.  
> However, just yesterday it was brought to my attention that between the time we began work on these stories and the time they were released on AO3, another fanmade team with the same acronymic name (VENM) appeared on deviantart, around winter of 2017 according to page dates. That particular Team VENM, which was created by AnonymousBlank and consists of the characters Verdell Hydra, Elroy Minos, Nigel Harbour, and Magenta Rachnera, has nothing to do with the Team VENM you read about here, and they represent seperate works by seperate authors.
> 
> The fact of the matter is that with team names consisting of whatever word you can derive from four letters, there's bound to be a lot of OC Teams that share names with each other by sheer happenstance. For example, the concept of a Team Black (BLCK, BLAK, BLAC) has at least six different variations I've found online, all with different characters but the same basic name.
> 
> To sum this up, because I feel it needs to be said, the Team VENM described in my series here on AO3 is made up of characters completely distinct and different from AnonymousBlank's OC team, and I do not claim credit by any means whatsoever for their OC team. Additionally, Verris, Eliza, Nero, and Marcus, as distinct and unique characters, are credited to myself, R. and L. The fact that team names are shared is coincidence at most.


	2. Episode 1: Food Fights and Trench Warfare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just like the show. There's crazy action sequences, Blake is a sinner, someone gets kinkshamed...
> 
> Serious summary: Team CFVY and VENM get caught up in a legendary food fight, and enjoy what may be the last weekend like this that they'll get for a while, although none of them truly know the real reason for that.
> 
> Content warning: Strong language, filthy sinners

Eliza’s cheeks were starting to go red from the strain as she battled to tip Nora’s arm closer to the table. The arm-wrestling match had been going on for an absolutely brutal two minutes already, and their clasped hands trembled exactly where the match had started. For once, Eliza had the advantage against Nora; she was using her shield arm, and given that Lioncrest weighed nearly one hundred pounds, she knew she could win this.

                Marcus and Yang had already tossed a sizable amount of lien cards onto the table next to the two of them, and the longer the fight went on, the greater the pile grew. Eliza almost lost focus when she glimpsed a purple 100 lien card slide into the pile from Weiss, who was very clearly pretending not to be interested in the match as she murmured “100 on Eliza”.

                “Verris…unf…please be sure to record the bet for me,” Eliza grunted out through gritted teeth. “I want to see the look on Marcus’ face when I win this one and he loses bigtime.”

                Nora let out a loud laugh at that. “Puh-lease, Lizzy! I’ve got this in the bag, as usual,” she taunted. “I mean, the score is 8 to 3 in my favor…”

                There was a firm hand on Eliza’s shoulder, and she could smell Coco’s perfume as her girlfriend leaned in close by her ear, causing her heart to skip a beat as it always did. “C’mon, babe,” Coco whispered softly. “I’ve seen what those arms can do, but I wouldn’t mind if you gave us all a refresher.”

                Eliza felt her face flush a deeper red than Pyrrha’s hair, and she strained for only a moment before slamming Nora’s arm down against the table with all of her strength, prompting a sympathetic ‘ooooh’ from the others gathered at the table as the surface cracked slightly under the impact. Nora’s jaw dropped in shock as she processed what had just happened, while Yang and Weiss busied themselves with dividing the betting pool between the two of them.

                “8 to 4, Nora,” Eliza boasted. “I’m catching up now…or you’re getting sloppy.”

                                Nora nodded quietly and shook Eliza’s hand before everyone went back to their meals. Nero and Blake exchanged looks of mild amusement from further down the table, and went right back to their drinks.

                It had been a few months since any of them had been worried about or even heard of Roman Torchwick, thanks in no small part to Ozpin’s newly instated curfew on students visiting Beacon City, but for once, it seemed like they were all, Team Venom included, enjoying a fairly normal life at the Academy, and all that entailed.

                Coco planted a small kiss on Eliza’s cheek, turning her face an even deeper shade of red than before, and leaned forward on the lunch table with a knowing smirk. “Good to see I can still motivate you, huh baby?” she teased (if we’re being quite honest here it was probably closer to purring, but I need to hold onto these cat puns for later).

                Eliza simply nodded wordlessly, feeling like her brain had short-circuited simply trying to find a suitable response. On the other side of the table, Verris groaned and rolled his eyes.

                “You know, if I wanted to see disgusting levels of cutesy couple interactions, I’d just point Ren and Nora to the nearest wedding convention,” he joked, causing Nora to fling an excessively buttered roll at his head in response while Ren choked on his drink. “It’s like if someone took the concept of ‘pure’ and then dumped Ruby’s daily sugar intake on it.”

                “Hey, we are not that bad!” Coco argued halfheartedly as she adjusted her newest pair of designer shades. “Unlike Nora, Eliza’s actually asked…”

                She was interrupted by an excessively buttered roll to the face from Nora, who was growing rather frustrated with the amount of food she was being forced to yeet across the table.

                “Nice shot,” Marcus said, clearly trying to distract himself from all the money he’d just lost. “But Verris, I’d draw the line at calling the relationship ‘pure’, especially after I found out that Coco is listed as “Mommy” in Eliza’s phone…”

                “Coco is listed as WHAT, NOW?!” Verris spat in surprise, while Blake tried to stifle her hysterical wheezing behind the pages of her book.

                “Can I log out of existence for a hot minute?” Eliza groaned in embarrassment. “Just for a minute, that’s all.”

                “I don’t get it,” Ruby piped up from the end of the table, and Yang rushed to clamp her hands over her sister’s ears.

                “Shhhhh, you heard nothing, you innocent child,” Yang insisted, before taking her seat next to Blake while Team Juniper tossed her pieces of food.

                “Four score and seven minutes ago, I devised a plan…” Ruby began, only to be cut off by Weiss’ “Is that my binder?”

                Eliza tuned out as she went back to her meal, pretending not to notice each time Coco stole one of her fries. She couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to ask Coco out, even if it was months ago. It still made her feel like a million lien every time she thought about it.

                Things couldn’t have been going better. Team Venom had finally come together in their own right as a powerful group, flying through every challenge Glynda’s class could throw at them. Marcus and Eliza had been spending the past few weeks working on a secret project for their entry to the Vytal festival at year’s end, Nero and Verris had dissolved nearly any of the tension that had existed between them as teammates, Verris hadn’t had his night terrors since midterms, and Nero had slowly begun coming out of his shell around the other teams.

                They were practically unrecognizable as the team they had been at the start of the year.

                                “So Nero, I was thinking,” Verris started. “You know that trick you pull with your daggers and low to the ground dodges?”

                Nero set down his coffee for a moment and nodded. “The Mobius Double-Reacharound, yeah,” he rattled off casually. “You’re talking about the one where I dig one of the blades into the ground and spin around it for a hit, right?”

                “That’s not the name I was expecting to hear for that move,” Verris admitted. “Actually, I wasn’t prepared to hear that name at all today, but yeah, that’s the one. Think you could teach me how it works?”

                Nero shrugged, one of his ears slightly lowered. “Ehh, I’m not sure it’d mesh too well with your style, Verris,” he said. “Dagger fighting doesn’t translate too well to greatsword fighting.”

                “Aw, c’mon, I can just use my semblance for that part,” Verris argued, turning his hand to steel for a moment as if to drive home his point. “I just can’t figure out the timing on it. I always end up tripping over myself.”

                “Well, I guess we can give it a shot…”

                                “INCOMING!” Marcus shouted, ducking out of the way of an entire turkey being flung across the table. The sound of clattering plates and splattering food started to rise over the voices of other students. Eliza watched in dread as a custard pie collided with Weiss’ face, and the whole lunchroom went silent.

                “We should probably bail, guys,” Velvet warned Team Venom, already packing her things. “This is going to get messy.”

                “So?” Marcus asked, picking up a nearby watermelon as stealthily as he could. “That just means it’ll be fun.”

                “No, you guys don’t get it,” Yastuhashi tried to explain. “A Beacon food fight is nothing like other food fights.”

                “How so?” Nero asked, stuffing breadsticks into his pockets before leaving his seat.

                “Well for one thing…”

                                There was a loud boom as Yang flipped over a segment of the table and ducked down behind it, while Team Juniper began assembling an arsenal of every food they could get their hands on.

                “…Beacon food fights get violent.” Yatsuhashi finished. “Run!”

                                Before anyone else could react, soda cans and bowls of salad were flying through the air, and Verris caught a peanut butter sandwich directly in the face as they scrambled for the exits. “Hey, civilian casualty!” he shouted out, trying to clean the sticky nut juice off of his face ( **author’s note: hey, I’m allowed to make myself laugh sometimes, you philistines** ) as he did.

                “Everyone get to cover!” Coco shouted as her team started pulling over tables for cover between them and the rest of the fighting while Ren grabbed a pair of pickles from the nearest tray and charged headlong towards Blake.

                Verris and Nero returned fire with whatever scraps they could manage while everyone else ducked behind cover with Team Coffee, wincing as multicolored messes splattered against the lunchroom around them. Out of the corner of Eliza’s eye, she saw Yang stuff her whole arm up a turkey, and grimaced.

                “How’s it going out there, Yatsu?” Coco called to their giant of a teammate as he peered over the table.

                He ducked back down with a face full of milkshake and gave Coco a hard look in response. “Could be better,” he said sarcastically. “But there’s a table about ten feet to our eleven o’ clock. We can make it if someone covers us while we run.”

                Coco turned to Eliza with a smirk on her face. “What do you say, Eliza?” she asked. “You up for some fun?”

                “Not in a public space, she’s not,” Marcus joked, before being promptly flicked against the forehead by Eliza.

                “Let’s do this, Coco,” she replied eagerly, bracing a chair against her arm as a makeshift shield as she did. “I’ll cover you…”

                “…And I’ll dish it out!” Coco finished for her, grabbing a bowl full of oranges and flinging it at the fight.

                Very few people knew Coco’s semblance. Like Pyrrha, she didn’t broadcast it very often, but she used it all the time. It was the only reason not a single one of her shots missed the mark if she had a clear line of sight.

                “They’ve got them blocked off, go for it!” Verris urged, pointing to the table by the door. “C’mon, I’m not looking forward to the idea of cleaning the plates on this jacket again, let’s move!”

                The six of them sprinted for cover, while Eliza blocked hit after hit with the metal folding chair and Coco launched every last one of those juicy vitamin C capsules (which you should all make sure to include as part of Pumpkin Pete’s complete breakfast) at the actual food fight with pinpoint accuracy. Each one connected in a spray of citrusy goodness against the targets’ heads, and before long, she was out of ammo.

                “Door’s open, now move!” Yatsuhashi shouted from the exit, and both teams bolted from the mayhem like the whole building was on fire, which it very well might have been at this point. They collapsed onto the ground in heaps, letting out relieved sighs and tired laughs even as Professor Goodwitch stormed past them into the lunchroom.

                “Okay, let’s be sure to see what happens after Glynda is through with them,” Marcus suggested. “But I might be writing that down on the ‘shit to do before I get inevitably expelled for recklessness’ rules.”

                “Did you guys see Nora?” Nero gasped. “She flung Yang through the roof as we were leaving!”

                                There was another crash as they saw a blonde haired blur come crashing back down through the same hole in the roof, and they all winced in response.

                “She’ll be fine,” Fox said casually. “I’ve seen her get hit by a semi before. The semi lost.”

                                Eliza smiled, and slowly picked herself up off of the ground. There was food all over her uniform, but she had more in her closet. Laundry could wait for another day.

                They weren’t going to get another weekend to waste like this anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry for the delay, grad school has been kicking my ass recently.
> 
> To be honest, this was always going to be sort of a filler chapter. That's how the original opening episode of V2 always struck me, and I couldn't think of anything else VENM would've been doing at the time, so I just went with my gut and wrote a cheesy little chapter with a bit of fun before I inevitably make things worse for the OCs as myself and their creators are wont to do.  
> Expect a treat for you BMBLB shippers in the next episode


	3. Episode 2: Advanced Planning (Not Your Average Everyday Planning)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team VENM attempts to prepare for the oncoming Vytal festival at year's end, but tension seems to be brewing between Verris and Eliza (go figure). Meanwhile, Blake struggles to come to terms with the events of the past few weeks (AYYYY BUMBLEBEE CONTENT).
> 
> Content warnings: mentions of abuse, strong language.

Team Venom’s dorm room was a mess, and not just the average “too focused on schoolwork to be bothered with cleaning” kind of mess. It was as if a full-on tempest of Nevermore-brand energy drinks, notebook paper, and pizza boxes had materialized in the room, hung out for an evening or two, and then disappeared the next morning. Thankfully, none of it had been there long enough to create any sort of unpleasant smell, but it would only be a matter of time.

                Of course, none of this was helped by Verris as he knocked back his third can of Nevermore for the night, crushing it against his iron-skinned forehead before tossing it aside casually into the pile. Classes the next day had already been cancelled, but there was plenty of other work they all needed to get done in the coming weeks.

                “Hooo boy, I feel like I could punch out an Ursa right now!” Verris exclaimed, practically vibrating in place as he went over his notes from the past week. “Seriously, who’s up for a mile run after this? Anyone? That’s fine, I can run one for each of you!”

                Eliza simply stared blankly at him in response. “Dust, is that what I look like when I get excited?” she asked. “It’s weird seeing it from the other side.”

                “Nah, you just ramble a bit more,” Nero replied, before turning to see that Verris had already gotten bored of going over notes and had begun doing push-ups in the common area. “Although that part is a bit familiar. Oy, Verris, cut that shit out and focus, man.”

                Almost immediately, Verris seemed to realize that he had gotten sidetracked and seemed to blur back to his seat at the table. “Sorry, guys. I’ve just been in a really good mood today and I never tried energy drinks before because Aethyr didn’t allow it and wow I need to lay off of the caffeine for a bit here…where were we?”

                Marcus unrolled a piece of poster board on the table, weighing down each corner with his textbooks. “We were going over the general bracket strategy for the Vytal festival this fall. I know the matches are actually randomized, but we still need to figure out how to prepare against the teams we do know,” he explained for the third time that night. “We’ll prioritize our home teams, seeing as they know our fighting styles the best.”

                “Team Cardinal is already disqualified from the tournament this year, so we can forget about any easy matches,” Eliza remarked. “But it’s nice to know that Ozpin finally took all those complaints seriously.”

                “Fuck Team Cardinal!” they all shouted in unison at the team’s mention, something that had become commonplace in recent weeks, despite the noise complaints it drew.

                “That still leaves Teams Ruby, Juniper, and Coffee for us to plan against,” Marcus pointed out. “They’re the only teams other than us who have entered to represent Beacon, and that number might grow. Right now I’d say it’d be a close match against any of them.”

                “Don’t they try to avoid matching teams from the same kingdom against each other?” Nero asked. “I mean there’s a baseline of four teams per kingdom, so the odds that we end up fighting another Beacon team are pretty low.”

                “And even then, we won’t be fighting them in the 4v4 round,” Marcus added with a nod. “What we do need to worry about is the duo and solo rounds, and who each team will likely put forward, because that could be what knocks us out of the running.”

                “Team Juniper will use Pyrrha and Nora, I guarantee it,” Verris said, still shaking a bit in his chair. “Duo round fighters need to be able to hold their own in a fight, which knocks Jaune off the list, and Ren’s fast, but he’s a glass cannon on his own.”

                “Nora can take pretty much any damage and deal it back twice over, and Pyrrha’s just untouchable thanks to that semblance of hers,” Marcus agreed, filling in their names in one of the spots on the poster board chart. “It’s an obvious choice, especially given their records. But that still leaves Coffee and Ruby…”

                “Coco already let slip that she and Yatsu are aiming for the doubles,” Eliza interrupted proudly. “I don’t think she realizes that I was listening at the time, but we can consider that one done.”

                “Strength and overwhelming firepower? I can’t imagine how that would work out,” Marcus said sarcastically. “Which just leaves…”

                “Look, they’re anyone’s guess,” Nero said. “Trying to predict what Team Ruby will do is like trying to nail water to a tree.”

                “You can always freeze the water first,” Verris suggested, before shutting his mouth.

                                “I feel like Yang would be in the mix somewhere, just based on the fact that her semblance is injury-powered,” Eliza guessed. “But I have no idea who the other one would be.”

                “It’s fine, we just need a rough idea of what we’re up against,” Marcus said, filling out the rest of the ‘Beacon’ row of the chart. “But it looks like the best bet for each team is focused on tanking the fights. High endurance, powerful hits, that stuff.”

                “So…you’re saying Eliza and I should take the duo round?” Verris asked. “What about you two? I don’t think we’ve ever seen what your semblance can do in a fight, Marcus…”

                “And we’ll keep it that way for now, trust me,” Marcus cut him off harshly before smoothing his hair over and taking a deep breath. “Sorry, but it’s not something I like using in combat. Ultimately, the decision will be up to you, since you are the team leader, but for now, let’s wait this out and see if the arriving teams give away their plans.”

                “Let’s just hope we don’t end up fighting Team Sun,” Nero joked. “Verris might just spend the whole match flirting horribly with Neptune.”

                Verris appeared to be choking on something in response, while Eliza shot him a smug look. “Oh? When did this happen?” she asked with a conceited tone. “I’m dying to know the details.”

                “Hey, neither of us were looking at where we were going,” Verris stammered out unconvincingly, his face flushing in spite of himself. “It could have happened to anyone, there was nothing flirty about it…”

                “Verris, it took you three seconds to remember your name after he started talking to you, and even then, you introduced yourself as Eris Vegeto,” Marcus reminded him. “And you do not want to hear the jokes Nora was making about you two.”

                “What was she saying?”

                                “I just said I’m not telling you.”

                “Marcus, I will dump cold mac n’ cheese in your shoes tonight if you don’t tell me,” Verris threatened.

                “Joke’s on you, Nero ate all the macaroni,” Marcus shot back, completely deadpan, and Nero had to shove his face into his hands to stifle the wheezing sounds that were coming from him.

                Suddenly, Verris’ hand went to his pocket, where his scroll was vibrating rapidly. “Hello?” he answered in such a forced casual tone that it was probably wearing a backwards snapback and board shorts. “Oh, that was tonight? Sorry, I totally forgot…no, I can still make it. Yeah, just give me like, uh, five minutes and I’ll meet you there! Yep! Okay, bye!”

                He left the table, hastily slotting his robotic leg into place before jamming his combat gear back on and grabbing Vosgedge. “Sorry guys, it slipped my mind, but I’ve got a practice session tonight. I’ll catch up with you later, promise!”

                Before any of them could respond, he was already out the door with half a slice of pizza in his mouth and his shoes dangling from his neck by the laces.

                “So are any of us going to tell him that his fly is down?” Nero asked, looking over Marcus’ chart with a puzzled look. “Because we probably should.”

                “Nah, he’ll figure it out,” Marcus replied. “For now, let’s just stick to our notes. Let Verris work out his grudges for now. That’s probably going to stay a constant thi…Eliza, you okay?”

                Eliza shook herself, realizing that she had been crushing her iced coffee can in her fist and now both teammates were staring at her. “Oh, sorry. I’m fine.”

                _Would it kill Verris to practice with us once in a while?_ she thought to herself as the others went back to planning for the festival. _Stop, Eliza, just stop. It’s helping him move past his issues, just let it be._

_He’s going to get himself hurt, and you know it._

**Team Ruby’s Dorm**

Blake sat alone by the window, her ears perked up underneath the bow on her head as she caught the last golden rays of sunlight on her face before she would have to sneak out again for another solo night on the town.

                It had been weeks, or was it months? So much time had passed since she faced down against Torchwick and the people she had once called her family, and yet, it felt as if the battle at the docks had just happened yesterday. It felt that way each and every night when she went to sleep and felt Roman aiming kicks at her ribs and found herself facing down the barrel of his rifle-cane, the jack-o-lantern face carved on the tip laughing mockingly at her pain.

                “Here, kitty, kitty,” he would always call out in that sickeningly snarky voice, reeking with malevolence. It reminded her too much of someone else.

                _Am I terrified of Roman? Am I really scared of him, or is it just…don’t linger there, Blake,”_ she thought, catching herself just before her thoughts were about to drift to her old partner, the terrifying man in a mask. _You know where that road leads_.

                Blake couldn’t figure any of this out. There had been not one, but two shootouts and one massive explosion caused by White Fang members within weeks of each other, and yet, no one seemed to be doing anything. They didn’t even seem worried anymore. No one seemed worried, even the police.

                Why was she the only one still having nightmares?

                She knew the answer to that part, of course. None of them had been as close to the White Fang as her. Her father had practically built the organization with his bare hands; it was actually her family legacy. But she had chosen to leave. She was marked now, a traitor, a deserter to be executed. She had a target on her head that no one else did, even her human friends.

                She had tried explaining that to Yang, she really had. After running off and deserting her team back then, she realized just how much she relied on the hyperactive blonde, but she couldn’t put this on her shoulders. She didn’t need to know about Adam…

                _No, BLAKE! STOP!_ she chided herself, digging her fingers into her hair as she attempted to force the image of the man from her mind. _SHUT IT DOWN DON’T THINK ABOUT HIM DON’T THINK ABOUT HIM DON’T DON’T DON’T!_

                Soon enough, his crimson hair and twin horns left her mind, and she stopped to catch her breath. She hated that he could still get to her like this, that it wasn’t getting hit or yelled at anymore, that all it took was his name to send her over the edge.

                She wanted to run her blade right through his gut, but she wanted to never be near him again even more.

                Which all brought her to now. The Fang had gone silent in the past weeks. Not only had crime dropped in Beacon City, it had fallen to a flat zero percent. That didn’t just _happen_ in big cities; there was always someone being mugged or cut up or hit with a car. If the crime rate had dropped to zero, it meant that someone had dug their fingers in deep enough to control every criminal element in the city, and they wanted to go unnoticed for a while.

                The White Fang with their claws wrapped around the whole of Beacon City…Blake didn’t want to imagine it. But it meant they were gearing up for something massive, bigger than anything they’d ever done before, and she was right at the heart of the storm.

                There was a light knock on the door, an unnecessary formality given that she had left it propped open with one of her older books, but she took a deep breath and asked whoever it was to come in.

                “Hey, Blake? I was wondering if I could talk to you for a bit….Blake, what’s wrong?” Yang asked, freezing in place by the door as she looked her teammate over. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

                _Shit._

“I’ll be fine, Yang,” she lied through her teeth with a practiced smile. “Thanks for asking, though. It’s just been a rough day is all.”

                “Do you need to talk about it?”

                                Blake thought for a moment, gazing out at the burning sunset as the shattered moon came into view. So much was running through her head, but there was really only one way she was going to calm down from this.

                “Actually, do you mind if we go into town together? I need to grab a few things, and I’d like the company,” she suggested, and she saw Yang smile.

                “Well, my evening’s pretty free,” Yang replied. “Just let me gas up Bumblebee and we’ll be good to go!”

                Blake grabbed her room key, and for the first time in weeks, left Gambol Shroud on her bed as they headed to the ground floor together. Even with all that was going on, there was comfort to be found with her teammates.

                Plus, she couldn’t resist the lure of riding with Yang into town, wrapping her arms around the blonde from behind and letting her light, lilac scented perfume wash over her in the wind…

                She felt her face warm up as she blushed, and quickly took a few deep breaths to calm down. Maybe one of these days she wouldn’t feel so strangely about the whole situation, but that was for a later day. Tonight, she was intent on forgetting herself and her problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooo boy, that took way longer than expected. Sorry for running over my deadline by like 300%, the last few weeks have been crazy as hell between planning for a move to another state and my finals for grad school. I promise delays won't usually be this long between chapters but this took an inordinate amount of time to complete. Thanks for bearing with me, you guys.
> 
> Yes, it's a bit light on content for a month delay, but I promise that the next chapter will be a doozy for feels and heavy content, so don't worry. You'll also get plenty of Arkos here soon, and some Sea Monkeys (maybe?).  
> -Diomedes
> 
> P.S.: V (the artist previously known as L), you can fite me bruh (best wishes).


	4. Volume 2, Episode 3: Home is Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verris and Pyrrha continue their training when they are interrupted by a daunting message.
> 
> Content Warnings: Language, Violence, mentions of abuse.

Verris spun on his heel, ducking under Pyrrha’s next strike as the gladius sailed over his head. They’d been running through the drills for about an hour now, and it showed. Both of them were starting to get sloppy in their moves, telegraphing their attacks and counters so far in advance it could have been scheduled by a secretary. And yet, the fight was still neck-and-neck between them.

                Verris, panting with exertion, hefted Vosgedge into the air for an overhead strike, missing by a full foot and leaving a white scratch in the concrete of the roof. Pyrrha, who had side-stepped the blow with ease, flung her shield like a Frisbee at Verris, and it collided solidly with his chest, knocking him back a bit. As he stumbled, Vosgedge slipped from his hands, and he was forced to catch her next strike against his armor directly.

                The impact jarred his teeth, but there was no chance to retrieve his weapon. Instead, Verris shoved his arms up, redirecting Pyrrha’s next hit just enough to allow him a barehanded strike on her side. Her eyes widened in surprise; what, had she expected him to just go for his weapon and give her an easy target?

                The next hit landed against her shield, and Verris found himself glancing rather quickly down the barrel of Akouo, giving him no room to dodge. He froze where he was, and nodded. “I yield,” he said, stepping back before slumping to the ground in exhaustion. He made a mental note to never touch energy drinks again, especially before sparring, as Pyrrha dropped her shield and collapsed as well, her breathing fast and shallow.

                “I…I’m starting to think…I need a lighter weapon,” Verris wheezed, ready to pass out right there on the roof. “The concept of ‘hit hard but slow’ doesn’t seem to be working out as well as it used to.”

                Pyrrha shook her head in response, taking sips from her water bottle in between gasps for breath. “That…I don’t think…the weapon is an issue…” she replied, wiping sweat from her brow. “Forcing openings…that still needs practice. So long as …you have an opening, you hit like…like a truck.”

                “Interesting comparison,” Verris laughed. “Sounds like it’s from experience. Did you win, or was it the truck?”

                Pyrrha rolled her eyes and gave him a light punch to the shoulder, making sure to glance off the armor plates. “You know what I meant,” she sighed. “But in all seriousness, your form has changed a lot since Mistral. I’m impressed.”

                Verris grimaced, forcing himself to sit upright despite his muscles protesting loudly at him. “Thanks,” he said. “Once I stopped forcing Vosgedge to move how I wanted it to, I started actually understanding how to really work with it.”

                “And?”

                                “Well, you were there,” Verris reminded her. “I stopped barreling head-on at my opponent and started actually listening to the situation. I had to be flexible, not stubborn.”

                Pyrrha didn’t say anything in response, she just nodded knowingly, as if expecting Verris to go on.

                “When I built this, I guess that was the only way I had been taught how to fight. If it’s in your way, smash through it. Force the problem aside. Keep smashing until the problem is rubble,” he continued, looking at Vosgedge with new eyes for the first time in a while. “I wanted to be stronger than anyone else. I wanted something I could swing harder than her weapon…now, I’m not sure it’s what works for me.”

                “You’re starting to find your own way to live,” Pyrrha commented with a smile. “Sounds like growth to me.”

                “I guess so,” Verris agreed, watching as an Atlaesian Bullhead ship hovered quietly over the mountains. He didn’t understand why Atlas was making such a show of strength right before the Festival, but he assumed it had to do something with their Academy, government, and military all being run by the same guy.

                “Are you still having nightmares?” Pyrrha asked, breaking the silence. “About home, I mean.”

                                Verris shrugged, giving a noncommittal hand-wave in response. “Eh, sort-of?” he admitted. “They come and go, but now it’s more of just…hearing little snippets of the things she used to call me. I don’t dream about the worst of it anymore. It’s like she’s fading.”

                “That’s good,” Pyrrha said, although she looked a bit uneasy about it. “It’s not perfect, I guess, but…you’ve been doing a lot better recently, just from what I’ve seen.”

                “Yep,” Verris replied, letting the breeze ruffle what little it could of his sweat-dampened hair. He’d been training against Pyrrha every other night, and while exhausting, he was improving. He was faster, more careful, harder to bait into an attack…

                “How’s Jaune doing?” he asked, breaking the momentary silence. “He started practicing with you…what, last month?”

                Pyrrha’s face went the same shade of red as her hair for only the shortest time before she smiled warmly. “Well, he’s certainly no slouch defensively. I have a hard time getting around his shield….”

                “But his swordplay still needs work, I take it?”

                                “Dust, yes,” Pyrrha sighed, the sound mixing with a gentle laugh. “He can swing with force, but he has no idea what to do on the follow through. He’ll get there though.”

                “Pfft, with you training him? He’ll be ready for the Festival in no time at all,” Verris laughed. “Seriously, I’ve never worked this hard in my life. I’m honestly glad I’m not going to the dance next week; I hardly have the energy for it.”

                Pyrrha sat up with a puzzled look on her face, using Akuou for balance. “You’re not going?” she asked him, one eyebrow raised.

                Verris simply shrugged in response. “Nah, it’s not my thing. I’m all right feet and no left, remember?” he joked, pulling off his prosthetic and waving it around for a moment. “If I’m being honest, I’ve never gone to one before. Gonna be pretty awkward if I can’t dance.”

                He could practically hear Pyrrha rolling her eyes at him. “I guarantee you that most of our school doesn’t actually know how to dance, but they’ll be there anyway,” she reminded him. “Do you just not have someone to go with?”

                “That depends, has Jaune asked you yet?” Verris asked with a smug grin, watching Pyrrha’s face go the same shade of red as her hair as she fumbled for a response. “Wait, let me guess, you asked him?”

                “Are you asking…wait, why me and Jaune…not…not to say that I wouldn’t…erm,” she stammered out before taking a breath and collecting yourself. “Verris, are you asking me to the dance?”

                He let out a loud laugh and smiled at her. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. I figure you and Jaune already got cutesy plans for the night anyway,” he assured her. “Trust me, if you dance as well as you fight, the last thing you’d want is to be paired with a clod like me for the night anyway…hey, what’s with the face?”

                “I h-have no idea what you’re talking about,” Pyrrha lied unconvincingly, her hand rubbing the back of her neck self-consciously. “I’m not pulling a look, am I?”

                Suddenly it hit Verris in the face like a brick, and his jaw dropped in surprise. “Dust, he hasn’t asked you yet?” he realized. “You’re kidding, right?”

                Pyrrha grimaced and shook her head in embarrassment. “No, no he hasn’t,” she replied. “I mean, he’s free to ask whoever he wants…”

                “As are you,” Verris reminded her.

                                “And he’s so head over heels for Weiss…”

                “Just like you are for him…”

                                “But I…is it that obvious?” Pyrrha asked him quietly, and Verris nodded.

                “I hate to tell you, but it’s about as subtle as Nora after a cup of coffee,” Verris told her earnestly. “We all know, but none of us were talking about it.”

                “Look, you know as well as I do that Weiss is never going to say yes to him,” Verris continued, pulling himself upright to tinker with the gears in his prosthetic leg. “He’s hopeless on that front, and I don’t think you’ve considered…”

                “Verris, he’s not interested in me,” she interrupted, before he held a hand up.

                                “You didn’t let me finish,” he said, stopping her. “I was saying, I don’t think you’ve considered the possibility that he genuinely doesn’t know you’re interested in him that way, y’know? Jaune’s about as oblivious to people as he is combat.”

                “Well, I…”

                                “I know Nora’s been trying to make it happen for a while too, so let me spell it out for you,” Verris said, as he slid his leg back on. “Tell him like it is. Make it so obvious that he can’t miss it, okay? Jaune’s like every other guy, me included; kind of an idiot when it comes to girls.”

                “And guys, from what I’ve heard about you and Neptune,” Pyrrha teased him.

                                It was Verris’ turn to go red in embarrassment now. “Seriously, has everyone heard already? We ran into each other, it was hardly…”

                “I heard you muttered something about ‘choking me out with those beautiful arms’ after the fact,” Pyrrha went on, and Verris buried his face in his hands to scream.

                “Can I die now? how many people heard me say that?”

                                “Just Yang, really,” Pyrrha assured him. “Though, all things considered that may not be a good thing.”

                “So the whole school has probably heard it too, yikes…hold on, someone’s calling me.”

                                Verris grabbed his scroll and saw a number he didn’t recognize on the display. The area code suggested it was a local phone though, so he answered anyway. “Hello?”

                “Hello, I’m trying to reach Verris,” the caller answered in a sweet voice, one that sounded vaguely familiar to him. “Do I have the right number?”

                He raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “Yes, this is him,” he replied. “Who is this?”

                                “Found you then, you little brat,” the voice said, suddenly much harsher and angry, and Verris recognized it immediately. “I figured you’d scurried off to another school like the ungrateful shit that you are, but Beacon? You went to Ozpin for help? You make me sick, boy. You’re a sorry excuse for a son.”

                Verris’ eyes went wide, and his ears flattened against his hair in panic as his breathing grew shallow. “How’d you get this number?!” he demanded, in a voice that sounded less angry and more terrified. “Who gave you this number!”

                “That doesn’t matter, though maybe you should pick your friends a bit more carefully,” his mother’s voice mocked him. “I’ll be seeing you soon, and this time, you’re not getting away from me. Ever.”

                The call ended, and Verris was left there, shaking like a leaf as the scroll slipped from his hands onto the concrete, mercifully undamaged. He had to run, had to find shelter until she left the area, had to tell Ozpin, had to…no.

                _I don’t even know if she’s in the city, or if she’s lying_ , he told himself in a vain attempt to ease his nerves. _All I have to do is tell Ozpin. He has my report of her behavior on record. If she sets foot in the city, she’ll be arrested for it. I’m fine, I’m safe…_

Pyrrha tapping him on the shoulder brought him back from his thoughts. “Who was that, Verris?” she asked him carefully. “You look terrified.”

                “My mother’s coming,” he replied flatly. “She’s going to try to take me back to Mistral.”

 

                Ironwood gazed out from the prow of the Bullhead airship onto the vast city below. Beacon City looked the same as the last time he had visited, all warm brick and mortar mingling with the pristine marble and steel of the Academy castle itself. It had a majestic, however quaint, air to it, one he had grown fond of over time. The Vytal Festival arena would arrive here soon, floating across the seas towards the city from Anima, where the last festival had been held. Just a few months.

                Months. That was all the time Ironwood had to ensure the safety of the city and its people. It wasn’t his kingdom to protect, true, but none of the other kingdoms had proper standing armies, and it fell to Atlas to keep order when the kingdoms called for their aid. The Kingdom of Vale had been going through an eerie period of silence, one that set off every red flag and alarm bell possible in Ironwood’s obsessive mind.

                Just a month ago, Dust theft, gang warfare, and even White Fang activity had all gone through the roof in Vale, and just as suddenly, it had stopped completely. The roots of whatever was being planned by the Fang went deep here, possibly straight to the heart. Atlaesian officials were considering that a conspiracy within the government was underway, but Ironwood knew better. This was something that the headmaster, wise and ancient as he was, had overlooked, or improperly planned for. Of course, the old man would have countless arguments against his bringing an army to Vale’s doorstep, but it was the right move.

                There was so much for him to do, and so little time to accomplish even the slightest of tasks with it. Between the international runaway situation and the White Fang’s activities in Vale, his blood pressure had been going through the roof. He needed a vacation, and he laughed at the thought.

                Men like him didn’t take vacations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know it's been nearly two months but hear me out. I've just moved to a new apartment and am still unpacking, and life's been crazy as hell for the past few months. I promise that chapters won't be this heavily delayed in the future, but right now things are kind of chaotic. It also doesn't help that this was a bit clunky to write the first time around, and the first volume of this stuff was all written when I posted it, which skews my chapter upload time a bit.
> 
> Here's to more chapters in the very near future,  
> -Diomedes.


	5. Episode 4:Food Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus and Nero sneak out of Beacon for a late night grocery run, and have a passing encounter with a particularly unsavory individual.
> 
> Content Warnings: Blood and Gore, Language

**VENM**

**Volume Two, Episode Four: Food Run**

                Nero helped Marcus roll up the massive sheets of poster board that were littering the floor, covered with their plans for the Festival at year’s end in excruciating detail. The two of them had been up for hours piecing together tournament pairings and how to prepare for each possible battle against the opponents they were aware of thus far, past even Eliza’s falling asleep at the table and subsequent snoring like a foghorn.

                “Hey Marc, where do you want the, um, the thing with the ladder….the…oh fuck it, you know,” Nero asked, waving around a rolled up sheet with the label “top secret yo” on the back. “This thing. Where you want it?”

                Marcus looked up from the pile of papers he was shuffling around and squinted for a moment. “Oh, the ranking system,” he answered. “Just slip it under our bed with the others, we’ll know where it is when we need it.”

                Nero shrugged and slid the paper underneath the lashed-together mattresses with a soft “yeet” before cringing at the mess that was piling up in the space. In all honesty, there was very little chance that the two of them would be able to easily find the chart later even knowing it was there. Spring cleaning was very much in order.

                “Well, that should be everything, then,” Nero said, stretching his back and letting his ears wiggle around above his mess of brown hair. “I need something to nosh on. What have we got in the pantry?”

                Marcus took one look at the cupboard, full of dust and little else, and winced. “You like spiders? Because unless you’ve got a hankering for spiders, we’ve got nothing.”

                “We’re not here to fuck with spiders, but thanks,” Nero groaned as his stomach churned, empty and desperately in need of an entire Golden Corral buffet or two. “Let’s go, grocery run.”

                Marcus raised an eyebrow and pointed to the clock. “Even if Vale-Mart is open 24 hours, Beacon isn’t,” he reminded Nero. “Ozpin set a curfew on students leaving the school, remember? We’ve gotta wait til morning.”

                Nero, however, was already grabbing a jacket and his daggers. “Nah, forget that, we’re sneaking out. We’ve got a massive tree outside our window, we can’t just not use it, right?” he said with a mischievous grin. “Grab your stuff and let’s get going, aight?”

                Marcus opened his mouth to protest, and stopped himself when he saw Nero already had one leg out of the window and smiled. “You really are a bad influence on me sometimes, you know that?” Marcus said as he slipped on a thin white jacket and clambered out of the window behind him. “After you, friend.”

                Nero leapt nimbly onto the trunk of the massive tree outside their window and scampered down the side with Marcus in hot pursuit. Their room was on the fifth floor of the block, but they had scaled bigger heights back in Vacuo before this, so it was nothing by consideration.

                The two of them reached the bottom of the tree in seconds, and found themselves standing at the edge of the massive Beacon courtyard, overlooking the city below from the raised plateau. As usual, Beacon’s lights filled the sky, with both greasy neon tubes and tasteful warm streetlamps along the roads. It was nothing like the silence of Vacuoan nights, but it was growing more bearable.

                Suddenly a thought occurred to both of them as they peered over the edge of the plateau to the city below.

                “Shit,” Nero mumbled. “Any ideas as to how we get down from here?”

                                Marcus looked around them for not even a second before his eyes locked onto the air-tram at the docking station, idling as it waited for apparently late passengers. “That’s how,” Marcus said, bolting for the top of the tram. “C’mon, before someone notices!”

                Nero grabbed his belt, lashing himself by the wrist to one of the airtram’s loading rails on the roof as Marcus did the same. They pressed themselves as low to the roof as they could, and both felt their hearts leap into their throats as they saw Glynda Goodwitch, Ozpin, and a man they had never seen before all approaching the tram, chatting animatedly about something.

                The man had a military look about him. His step was rigid and measured, the kind that came from years of learning how to walk in a way that demanded respect from all around him. His long white coat was crisply pressed and cleaned immaculately, clinking gently with medals and pins as he walked alongside Glynda and Ozpin, his hair was shaven down on the sides, revealing the first stripes of graying hair.

                “Who do you think the stiff is?” Nero asked in a whisper barely above a quiet exhale. “Never knew Oz talked with military bigwigs.”

                Marcus shook his head in response, motioning for Nero to keep quiet as the three boarded the tram beneath them. Meanwhile, Ozpin sounded like he was growing increasingly exasperated.

                “James, you can’t just take one incident as license to move your entire army into the nation, even as pre-festival security,” the headmaster said, his voice carrying out through the open window. “It sends the wrong message. People are already asking about a possible invasion.”

                The military man laughed uncomfortably. “Oz, you know as well as I do that Atlas represents no such threat. People always believe the worst of militaries since the foundation of the Academies,” he replied. “Look, I was called on by the other kingdoms to provide some assurance that Vale was safe in the months before the festival, and since I’ve arrived, I’ve seen no reason not to say that it isn’t.”

                “Ironwood, we appreciate the circumstances, but really…”

                _IRONWOOD?!_ Marcus mouthed in silent shock at Nero, whose own eyes widened in apprehension. Neither of them had ever seen what he looked like, but everyone knew the Iron General’s name, and if he was here…

                _Things are worse than we thought_ , Nero thought to himself, trying desperately to listen in on their conversation over the rushing wind in his ears as the tram reached its destination below.

                Marcus and Nero waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, after what felt like hours, the three adults disembarked and headed out into the city, and the two of them let out long exhales before climbing down off the roof. The tram driver looked like he was considering going off on the two of them, but simply shook his head and took off back to the Beacon air dock.

                “So…” Marcus said. “Vale-Mart and then some burgers we don’t need?”

                                “Hell yes.”

 

                Nathan Browne held his arms close around himself as he tried to scrub the blood off his lips in the puddle at his feet. He wanted to vomit, but his body refused every signal he gave it. The beast was too hungry tonight for him to rebuke.

                “You’re okay, Nathan, you’re okay,” he muttered to himself past a face full of water, glaring at his reflection as the red stain stubbornly remained at the corner of his lips. “If anyone asks, it’s just makeup from a bar hookup. Yeah, yeah that’ll work….come on, damn you, get off of me!”

                Still, no matter how hard he tried, that last fleck, the very last few drops of blood remained stuck to the bottom left corner of his mouth, and Nathan grimaced. He made a very clear point of not looking to the half-eaten body stored in the dumpster nearby, which probably had his DNA all over it.

                He hated this semblance. It was hardly a semblance, actually. More of a curse or possession than anything else. When threatened, he could immediately shapeshift, and access the thing that lived in his head…

                …But he could never stop it until the thing had been sated. It loved eating people, loved the taste, the sounds, the smells and _especially_ the screams. It always disappeared right after, leaving him with a  body to clean up and an alibi to concoct. This time it was going to be difficult. If the warden found him again, he was going to have a hard time explaining why the contents of his stomach included one human heart, liver, pancreas, and both eyes along with some muscular tissue that now strongly resembled hamburger meat.

                “We agreed, no more scavengers!” he hissed angrily at the beast, thankful that his tattered clothes hadn’t been hit with blood too. “Criminals or nothing!”

                **_Oh please, that man was a threat to everyone and himself_** , the beast growled back at him. **_We did him a favor, and I was hungry. Now let’s get going, this city’s a buffet waiting for me._**

                “No!” Nathan growled in response. “You’ve had your fill, and you broke our rule. I’m going to keep you locked up in there for a long time, this time around, got it?”

                **_Nathan…_**

“Don’t Nathan me, you monster,” Nathan cut him off, staggering out of the alley towards the still open Vale-Mart for something to get the taste of person out of his mouth. “I’m about to stuff your face with so much spinach and corn that you’ll be picking leaves out of our teeth for months!”

                **_PLEASE NOT SPINACH!_**

“Look, you ate a common mugger. I’m getting the taste out. Deal with it!”

                The beast grumbled off into silence as Nathan took a few deep breaths and stepped into the store, playing it as casually as he could without slipping into a backwards hat and sunglasses.

 

                Marcus and Nero bobbed and weaved between customers, snatching as many cans of cheap macaroni as the could off the shelves before tossing them into the cart like basketballs. Living on Beacon’s student stipend was a fantastic thing when you came from nothing financially, but they weren’t about to leap for full-sized steaks either. No, tonight was all about cheap, greasy, and disgustingly gratifying.

                “Yo, Marc, I found this nugget box over here,” Nero called out, hanging from the top of the freezer shelf obnoxiously. “Says it’s got cheese and bacon mixed in with the nuggets and it looks like it could give me an instant cardiac arrest. Want some?”

                “Don’t you?” Marcus replied, shoving the cart over to him with a smile as Nero immediately slam-dunked the box, and then another one into the cart. “I think we’ve got enough for tonight. What say we head home and pig out?”

                “You kidding? We haven’t even gotten to the ice cr-oof!” Nero started before bumping into someone twice his height. “Sorry! Didn’t see you there!”

                Nero looked up to see a man about six, maybe seven feet tall. He had messy, short black hair and was drenched in sweat, his lean arms shaking with some sort of exertion or anxiety. As Nero caught his scent, something felt horribly off about the man, who smiled and moved past nervously, muttering to himself in argumentative tones.

                “Y’know what? I think I’m good for the night,” Nero said, pushing Marcus and the cart towards checkout. “Seriously, let’s go. As in we need the hell out of here.”

                Which was exactly when the cart ran into none other than Headmaster Ozpin, who was going over a carton of eggs carefully before turning to them with a raised eyebrow.

                “I’ve tried using the roof of an airtram myself once, you know?” he said with a knowing smile. “It’s not half as sneaky as you think it is.”

 

                The two stumbled back into their dorm room with arms full of the unhealthiest foods they could find, beet-red across the face and silent as Ozpin closed the door behind them.

                “Stick to the curfew next time, or there will be problems,” he warned them before the door closed, allowing Nero and Marcus to let out a collective held breath.

                “Holy shit, I thought we were in it for sure!” Marcus laughed, his voice low so as not to wake Eliza, who was still asleep at the table. “Lucky break, I guess.”

                “Hmm,” Nero replied, much less relieved. “Let’s just put this stuff away and eat. I need sleep.”

                                Marcus’ brow furrowed, and he put down the box labeled “Chicken-Bacon-Cheese Nukes” in the freezer. “Nero, what’s up? You’ve been spaced out since we left the store.”

                “That guy I ran into? Something was wrong with him, very very wrong,” Nero replied honestly, his ears flattening against his head in worry. “He opened his mouth to apologize, and I smelled blood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know it's been like four months since I last uploaded a chapter, but hear me out.
> 
> ^Now that we've got the obligatory joke statement out of the way, a serious apology. I let this sit for way too long and I'm sorry about that. I never intend to abandon writing this series until it's completed. But life found a lot of ways to get in the way over the past months.  
> 1: Over the past four months, I've had to take my car in for major repairs four times, and each of them has been a stressful matter that took at least a week each to resolve (this last one took nearly the whole month due to people fixing other stuff until the dealership finally located the actual problem), and keep in mind, this car is my only means of getting around and driving my SO to work, so it was a heavy stressor.  
> 2: Apart from the car, I was also grinding my way through the single hardest and most stressful grad course of any class I've ever taken, and just barely passed it a week ago by the skin of my teeth (if I hadn't passed it, ya boi would've had to wait and pay for a full next semester to get his Master's degree).
> 
> All that being said, I've got a lot of these stressors out of the way now, so I can bring you some quality VENM goodness, which is part of your mandatory...erm, complete breakfast at a more regular pace. The above chapter was mostly meant to introduce a new and assuredly important character for later in the story, Nathan Hawke Browne. For those of you who've either seen the new Venom film with Tom Hardy or read Nathaniel Hawthorne's "Young Goodman Brown", you can see where I drew his inspiration from.
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me, guys! You'll never have to wait this long for a chapter again.


	6. Episode 5: Atlasian Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliza deals with the aftermath of a particularly unlucky day, while Professor Grae comes to them with a special task. Meanwhile, all is not well in the kingdoms, with the disappearance of a certain Huntress
> 
> Content warnings: language, mentions of violence and abuse.

Eliza woke to the sound of steel being sharpened and tools being jostled around inside of a container. She forced her eyes open blearily, glaring at the silhouettes the morning sun cast of the room outside onto her privacy curtain. It seemed that Verris was up early, not that it was unusual for the weekend, but he was usually courteous at the very least.

                She shoved her hair out of her face and sat up grumpily on the edge of the bed. It was too early for this, especially given how later they had all been up the previous night. Eliza couldn’t get those charts and diagrams out of her head.

                “Mmmpph….hey, Verris?” Eliza mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “You mind keeping things down? It’s the…morning…”

                Eliza stopped as she pulled back her curtain and saw Verris, his hair wildly askew and eyes ringed with dark circles. His sizable collection of tools was scattered across the floor around him, and Vosgedge was resting on his bed with a visibly sharpened edge. He had given no indication that he had actually heard Eliza, and was muttering rapidly under his breath to himself as he continued tinkering with his prosthetic leg.

                “Have to establish a perimeter, she can’t get in if I rig the entry….window too, lace the frame with tacks and conceal with felt strip,” he muttered to himself, as Eliza watched him slip a gravity Dust shard into a compartment in his leg. “Stay armed, assume she’s alone…”

                “Verris, what are you doing?” Eliza asked him again, realizing that he seemed to have nailed the window shut. “What is all of this?”

                “Can’t talk, gotta keep her out…she’s coming, gotta slow her down,” he continued, hardly even acknowledging Eliza. “Can’t stop her outright, but I can hurt her. Just gotta hurt her, wear down her aura. No aura means no semblance. No semblance means no control. No control means I can put her down…”

                “Verris!”

                                Finally, he stopped, ears twitching as his head snapped towards her. Eliza got a good look at his eyes: they were wild, energized, and frenzied in a way she had never seen before. Everything about him screamed “cornered animal”, and Eliza ratcheted her alertness levels up to maximum.

                “What happened” she asked him, eyeballing his tools warily. “Who’s coming, Verris?”

                                He looked around the room as if coming out of a daze for a moment, apparently confused by everything. “Wait…is it morning?” he asked her as he looked out the window. “How long have I…but I just got back from training and…Dust I was up all night? I’m running out of time, I need to stop her!”

                “VERRIS, STOP!” Eliza shouted, grabbing him by the shoulders firmly. “Please, just tell me what’s going on, okay? What has got you so worried that you’re…are you trying to booby-trap our dorm?”

                “It…don’t worry about it, Eliza, I…I’ll take care of things, just go back to sleep,” he stammered out, running a hand through his lime-green hair. “I’ll get this all cleaned up and…everything will be fine…it’ll all be fine.”

                _Like hell, I’m going back to sleep_ , Eliza thought, plopping herself down right in front of her mess of a team leader defiantly. “No, Verris, I’m not going to do any of that,” she told him, dialing back her tone as she noticed his ears going flat against his head. “Nothing scares you this bad, other than...her. Verris, did something happen with Aethyr?”

                His ears pressed even lower to his head, and Eliza felt the angry knot in her stomach tighten in response. The whole team knew about what Aethyr had done to Verris and his family, and it spoke volumes to his trust in the team that he even let them know as much as he had, but Eliza could never prevent hatred from filling her heart whenever she saw how afraid Verris still was of his own mother.

                _No parent should make their child feel this way_ , she thought to herself, trying to squash the burning fire inside her. Hate was not an emotion she took to, and she didn’t want to get used to it. “What did she do, Verris?”

                “She…she’s coming for me,” he explained hesitantly. “She figured out where I want, and…someone must’ve given her my scroll number…she told me she was going to take me back home…and I can’t waste any time, I need to prepare and keep her away because I’m not going back alive if I can help it….”

                “Verris, just stop for a second, please,” Eliza told him again. “Have you told Ozpin about this yet? Professor Port?”

                Verris shook his head in response. “They can’t stop her, Eliza, no one can,” he told her. “I thought I could win if I got away but I was wrong...I’m scared, Eliza. I thought I was past this now…”

                It was the second time Eliza had seen Verris on the edge of tears, but the first time she had seen him actually cross that edge and break down entirely. He hugged his legs tight against his chest, burying his face in his knees and shaking as choked sobs racked his body. Eliza wanted nothing more than to hold him tight and assure him that everything was fine, that Aethyr was just bluffing, but she couldn’t. She refused to lie to a friend like this, not when they needed help more than anything.

                So she took a deep breath, stamping down her instinct to strap on her armor and shield and smash this hateful woman into a bloody pulp across the cobblestones of the filthiest alley she could find in the city and….

                She needed to step up and lead now, to keep everything together in place of Verris. He wasn’t going to carry this on his own.

                “Alright, the first thing we do is go to the staff and tell them the situation,” Eliza explained calmly, helping Verris to his bed and reattaching his robotic leg carefully. “Ozpin already knows about what she did, yeah? So we just have to tell him that Aethyr has made a threat, and we have reason to believe she may try to harm you. The staff is here to take care of us, remember?”

                Verris shook his head again, biting his lip. “No, no that won’t work,” he argued weakly. “Sanctum and Haven couldn’t stop her, Beacon can’t either…”

                “Yes, they will, Verris,” Eliza assured him. “Ozpin won’t let her come anywhere near the school. Beacon is a fortress, and no one gets in without his knowing about it.”

                “She’s not going to ask permission or…”

                                “Verris, we’ll take care of this,” she told him. “You’ll be fine, I promise. And if she does try anything? If she somehow manages to get within 100 feet of you…”

                “Eliza, you don’t need to get yourself involved,” Verris tried to tell her. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t want anyone else getting hurt…”

                “I wasn’t finished, Verris,” Eliza cut him off, adjusting the screw by the top of his prosthetic to secure it properly in place. “You don’t have to worry about her, because if she gets anywhere near you, I swear on the Aurum family name that I will pulverize every bone in her legs into a fine powder before I drag her to the police. I will turn her into a thick red jam before I let her lay a finger on you, got it?”

                There was no response from him, no argument or counterpoint, just silence as he wiggled the toes on his robotic foot nervously. Eliza watched as the gears and rods and pistons all adjusted in tiny, precise movements within the prosthetic, catching each and every little impulse Verris was sending to the machine. Eliza had never seen the device this close before, and had to admit how impressive the engineering on it was. She knew of soldiers in Atlas who wouldn’t make enough to afford such a replacement in their entire lifetime, and it was possibly the only remnant of the heritage Verris’ family once had; wealth, power, influence, and respect.

                But his heritage wasn’t something he could flaunt like Weiss did with her money. It wasn’t style like the Adel’s had made themselves famous for. The only heirloom he got to carry from the Emedio name was the constant reminder that it hadn’t been enough to protect him.

                Eliza’s rage was gone, melted away at the realization. Her hatred for Aethyr wasn’t the solution Verris needed; he had seen enough of hatred.

                “I’m sorry,” Eliza said, helping Verris to his feet carefully. “What…what I’m trying to say is that we’re here for you, all of us. We protect our own, no matter what. I won’t let her hurt you, Verris.”

                At last, a small smile from her leader, even though it was dulled by the glassy look in his eyes. He needed rest, and he needed some peace. “Come on,” she said softly, leading him to the dorm room door. “Let’s get you to Ozpin, and then the nurse. I’ll let Nero and Marcus know later.”

                As they left, Eliza bumped into a passing student she hadn’t seen before, nearly knocking her over. The girl, a foot shorter than her, gave her a quick red-eyed glare before turning on her heels and continuing down the hall, her mint-green hair obscuring any chance Eliza had to get a good look at her.

                “Bitch,” Eliza mumbled under her breath.

 

                 “…In summation, you cannot rely on aura or semblance to save you in every fight,” Glynda went on, as the lecture drew to a close. “Even with Harbook’s Method, the majority of huntsmen and huntresses who are killed in the field die because they refuse to acknowledge the possibility that they may need to retreat…yes, Mr. Black?”

                Eliza turned away from the deep gouge she was scratching into her notebook to get a look at the new student, one of many who had just arrived in early preparation for the Vytal Festival. His steel-gray hair hung heavily around his face, while the rest swept back behind him as if frozen in place during a windstorm. He had a distinct cockiness to his smile, one even worse than Cardin’s, as he leaned forward to address Glynda.

                “Didn’t Niles Harbrook die while he was retreating from a fight?” he asked, even though he clearly knew the answer.

                “Yes, that’s correct, Mr. Black,” Glynda replied in clear irritation. “But the method he developed for securing safe retreat has saved countless lives over the years, so… _yes, Mr. Black, what is it?_ ”

                “I’m just saying, if his own method didn’t saved him, and everyone knows how it works now, then doesn’t that mean that a human or faunus opponent will know exactly what you’re doing when you use the method?” he continued, smirking to himself while his green-haired teammate rolled her eyes. “I grew up hearing all about great huntsmen like Derrick Bernhardt and Sear Emedio, and they both bought it against human opponents who knew how to fight hunters.”

                Eliza’s pencil snapped in half under her grip, and winced as she saw several people turn in her direction warily. She’d had a rough day; between helping Verris calm back down and Coco’s completely impromptu breakup with her (“It’s just not what I’m looking for”), she was already in a foul mood. Clearly, this was not lost on Glynda.

                “Mr. Black, wait out in the hall,” she snapped, pointing her riding crop towards the door. “We’ll discuss your impropriety after class is over.”

                He simply shrugged in response, walking casually out of the room and whistling as he did. As he passed Eliza, he winked knowingly, and Eliza felt the sudden urge to throw this kid out of the window. If not for Marcus giving her a very clear “don’t do it” look, she’d probably have done it.

                “He’s on one of the international teams,” Marcus whispered as class resumed. “He’s more trouble than it’s worth, okay?”

                Eliza took a deep breath and nodded, turning her attention back to the damaged notebook on her desk. She knew force wasn’t an option, and it wouldn’t make her feel any better by the end of it. She needed a different approach.

                When class ended, Eliza immediately made a beeline for Black’s teammate, the green-haired girl from earlier, and slammed her hand down on the girl’s textbook before she could stow it. The girl flinched slightly, but returned the angry glare. “What’s your problem?” she demanded, yanking the textbook out from Eliza’s grip. “Do you know how much money these cost to replace if they get damaged?”

                Eliza ignored Marcus’ insistent motions to leave the room and lowered herself to the girl’s eye-level. “Tell your teammate to watch his mouth, got it?” she whispered threateningly. “Otherwise, there’s going to be trouble.”

                The green-haired girl opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by someone else; a tall, black-haired woman with burning yellow eyes. “Leave Emerald out of this,” she told Eliza in a voice that was somewhere between sultry and condescending. “Mercury is part of my team. I’ll make sure he gets the message.”

                Eliza’s eyes flicked from Emerald to the team leader a few times before she grunted angrily in response. “Good,” she said brusquely. “Glad this didn’t get ugly.”

                “You really don’t want to see ugly, friend,” the woman replied. “We’ll see each other around, I’m sure.”

                As the class door slammed behind her, Eliza let out a loud sigh. Marcus, on the other hand, seemed more on edge than before.

                “Eliza, what was that?” he demanded. “I know this hasn’t been a good day, but you can’t let something like that get to you, especially not with someone who could get us thrown out of the tournament if we wanted payback!”

                “He knew exactly what he was doing, Marcus,” she argued, looking through her contacts for her sister’s name. “He specifically name-dropped Verris’ father to get under our skin.”

                “Mercury and his team are from Mistral, of course they know about Sear Emedio,” Marcus reminded her. “He may not be famous here or in our home countries, but I did some research a while back, and the Emedios were ridiculously famous in Anima for a while. It makes perfect sense why he’d bring up Sear as an example of a huntsman…”

                “He winked at me as he passed, Marcus, you saw it,” Eliza interrupted, taking long strides across the central courtyard. “He knows Verris is on our team, and he wanted to see what would happen. He thought it was a funny joke.”

                Marcus shrugged in response. “So? Verris wasn’t here for it, and we really can’t do anything about the situation. Just let Glynda handle it.”

                “Yeah…you’re right,” Eliza finally conceded, crossing her arms in front of her. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”

                “Never said you had to…oh! Professor Grae, is there something you need?”

                                The two of them were abruptly led down a corridor towards Beacon’s main lobby by the Dust Sciences instructor, whose straight silvery hair fell in almost inhumanly perfect form around their face as usual. There was a smile in Grae’s visible eye, more emotion than students usually got the chance to see from the Hunter.

                “I’m glad I caught you two when I did,” Grae explained cheerfully. “Ozpin sent me with a couple of messages for you, and some good news!”

                “Well, Professor, I could use some good news right about now,” Eliza admitted, shrugging Grae’s hand off of her shoulder. “It’s been a day.”

                “Hmm, so I’ve heard,” Grae replied, tapping the side of their head knowingly. “I must admit, I’m proud of how your team has grown over the year so far. Cohesion is all well and good, but many teams take years to learn what VENM has figured out in months; group support.”

                “Well, it was either that or we let ourselves crash and burn,” Marcus added. “So what did Ozpin want?”

                “First, to assure you that he’s taking the matter of your team’s safety very seriously in light of recent events,” Grae said, lowering their voice slightly. “Ms. Nikos was apparently there when the threat was made by Verris’ relative, and offered her testimony to back Verris up. Normally we would just increase school security, but given the nature of the situation, we’re stepping things up a bit. You can thank Ozpin’s friend for that; he specializes in security of any scale.”

                Marcus’ eyes snapped to Grae immediately. “Wait, Ironwood?!” he whispered in surprise. “Are you serious?”

                Grae made a brief motion to be quiet, their eyes narrowing on Marcus. “You and Nero always seem to know more than expected,” they commented. “I’m not at liberty to disclose the identity of said friend, but rest assured, the matter has been taken care of. Sanctum and Haven Academy have already been contacted about the situation and are preparing to fully cooperate with us on this.”

                Eliza felt as if a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you, Professor. We’ve all been a bit on edge since last night,” she thanked them. “Now I can go dismantle the booby traps our dorm was rigged with.”

                Grae opened their mouth for a moment to speak, closed it, and then shook their head, laughing. “Would you be surprised if I told you this wasn’t the first time a student set up improvised security in their dorm room?” they said. “I still have flashbacks to Team TALE’s gardening rake incident…”

                “Is that how you lost your eye?” Marcus blurted out.

                                Grae only smirked in response as they arrived in their office, where Nero was sprawled out across one of the chairs with a juice pouch in hand. “I’m sure you’ll find out one day, but not yet,” Grae told them before taking a seat on the other side of the desk. “Mr. Boudica, I almost forgot to tell you, but our guest won’t be able to visit for quite some time. It might be as late as the Vytal Festival before he arrives, and he sends his sincerest apologies.”

                Nero grimaced, but nodded all the same. “Busy schedule, no worries,” he said casually, before waving to his teammates, the straw of the juice pouch still in his mouth. “Sup?”

                “Keeping Eliza out of trouble, you?” Marcus replied with a grin as Eliza shot him a look.

                                “Eh, checked up on our glorious leader, left a surprise in Cardin’s locker, got pulled into a meeting,” Nero told them. “I’m guessing this is not for Verris’ ears, right Professor?”

                Grae nodded, brushing their hair away from their good eye. “That’s correct. While we’ve ensured that Aethyr can’t get anywhere near your team so long as you’re on Beacon grounds, we can’t provide the same assurance outside the city, and as I’m sure you know, end-of-year mission deployments are coming up soon.”

                “So is Ozpin going to make us pass on an assignment?” Marcus asked anxiously. “How’s that going to work out?”

                Grae shook their head. “No, that’s not it. Quite the contrary, actually. While we are doing everything in our power to keep you four safe, preventing you from completing a first-year assignment along with the rest of your class would deprive you of much needed field experience as Hunters, and since we can’t assume that Aethyr will show her face anytime soon…”

                “We can’t just put off the work forever, yeah,” Nero finished for the professor, loudly slurping at the dregs of the juice pouch. “What does all of this mean for us?”

                “Normally, a first-year team like yours would be restricted to a select few assignments, while second-years and up would have the pick of the litter,” Grae told them. “However, since one exception to the rule has already been made and we need to keep a close eye on you, Ozpin has assigned Team VENM to accompany me on a rank-2 assignment. On the slight chance that Aethyr does appear near the kingdom, I’ll have all of you under close watch in addition to military support. Most students receive nowhere near that level of safety.”

                “Mmmm, not a big fan of the military,” Nero commented. “What’s the job?”

                                “You’ll be assisting me and the Atlasian infantry in escorting a certain shipment along a classified route,” Grae said flatly. “I’m not at liberty to disclose more than that until briefing in two weeks’ time. Remember, this has already been assigned to Team VENM. You simply need to prepare.”

                Eliza shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “What’s Atlas doing here anyway?” she asked. “It’s not like them to get involved in another Kingdom’s academy.”

                “That’s on a need-to-know basis, Ms. Aurum,” Grae snapped quickly. “Sorry…but there are certain matters better kept known among only a small number. You’re dismissed.”

 

**Ozpin’s Office…**

James Ironwood slipped his scroll back into his pocket, letting out a grunt of frustration as he reached for a flask of brandy. “I wish I could still say this whole thing feels a bit blown out of proportion,” he began, taking a sip of the liquor. “But after the reports from Mistral, I’m not so certain.”

                Ozpin fidgeted with the head of his cane. “I take it the leads were not promising, then?” he asked, pulling up a list of contacts on his holo-screen. “I didn’t expect much pushback from the Academies in response to an investigation, but…”

                “Oz, there was no pushback from Sanctum _or_ Haven Academy,” Ironwood interrupted him, his tone grave. “Both of them were more than eager to answer any questions I had, but neither of them have any clues as to Aethyr’s whereabouts.”

                “What? That’s absurd, the Academies keep tabs on their teachers at all times…” Glynda began to argue.

                “And according to Sanctum Academy, Aethyr left two weeks ago on paid leave for what she claimed was a family emergency,” Ironwood corrected her, capping the flask and replacing it inside his jacket. “Sanctum’s headmistress had no reason to suspect foul play until my call just now, and Lionhardt claimed ignorance of the entire ordeal.”

                Ozpin leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. The clockwork filling the office ticked and clanked onward monotonously for a few moments as he considered the possibility of Headmaster Lionhardt withholding information.

                “So we have to assume that Aethyr is already close at hand, given the time of her departure from Sanctum,” Oz stated, sipping his coffee. “No one at Beacon, student or staff, had any apparent contact with her according to the network records, so she must have gleaned his whereabouts from an outside source, as well as his contact information.”

                “I’ll check with the Kingdom’s data archives at once,” Glynda said, heading for the elevator in quick, controlled strides. “I’ll let you know what turns up.”

                Ozpin nodded to her as the doors closed and the elevator left for the ground floor. Ironwood whistled, and took a seat at Ozpin’s desk. “She really hasn’t changed at all, has she?” he joked. “Still can’t stand to be in a room with me for longer than five minutes.”

                Ozpin gave an obligatory chuckle in response, but nothing further. He knew that James only joked when he was seriously uncomfortable about something, and he always did a poor job of concealing it. “There’s something more to this, isn’t there, James?” Ozpin suggested, an eyebrow raised.

                Ironwood bit his lip, clearly trying to hold back for only a moment before giving up. “You said this threat from Aethyr was issued just last night, correct?” he began. “Tell me, what else happened at Beacon yesterday of significant note?”

                “Surely you don’t suspect…”

                                “…One of the early arrivals for the Vytal festival, yes,” Ironwood confirmed for him, going through a list of the entrants from each Kingdom who had arrived at Beacon on the early flights yesterday. “If Aethyr was getting information on her son’s whereabouts from an outside source, it doesn’t make sense for her to have waited so long to make that call unless she didn’t have a way to contact him before. And by coincidence, she makes that call at the same time that several foreign teams arrive at Beacon for early tournament prep, the same time that dozens of those students are linking into Beacon’s network. Given that Aethyr doesn’t want to be caught, we can also assume she’s using a burner scroll, so trying to trace it through network logs won’t work either.”

                “You think this whole case is tied to one of her Pawns, don’t you?” Ozpin realized, trying to hide his shaking hands beneath the desk. “James, we both know Aethyr is a horrible woman, but to suggest that a trained Huntress would forsake her oath so readily and…”

                “Would it really be the first time that’s happened?” Ironwood cut him off.

                                Ozpin stopped arguing, and massaged his temples in his hands. “I’ll contact Qrow and HAEL, just to see if anything’s slipped the net,” he conceded. “I truly hope you’re wrong, James. I’d rather not consider our chances if she’s managed to get as fearsome a fighter as Aethyr on her side.”

                “Neither would I,” James agreed. “But after the White Fang incidents, we can’t let anything slip past us again.”

               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, back on schedule! Somehow I've managed to find the time to keep updating this volume while finishing my capstone and doing some job hunting, but I think it's really just that I've finally gotten back in tune with these characters. I know that the volume thus far seems pretty fixated on Verris, and I'm sorry if it seems like I've deflected attention away from the other characters, but I promise I'm working up to other arcs and character development, for canon and OC characters.
> 
> Thanks for your patience!


	7. Episode Six: Grimm Harvest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aethyr grows impatient in her mad scheme to recapture her son for good, but as her employer reminds her, there is always a greater power to appease first, and certain demons that need satisfaction...
> 
> Content Warnings: Graphic Blood and Gore, Violence, Language, Mentions of Abuse (some via involuntary mind control), and as always when Aethyr is around, discussion of parental abuse and violence.

“RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!”

                                Aethyr’s screams of rage filled the forest air as she tore her flail through trees and Grimm alike, bathing in the negativity as it drew endless prey into her hands. She had lost count of how many of the beasts she’d brought down within the past hour, but she wasn’t concerned. None of them had managed to land so much as a scratch on her yet, and Shattered Earth was still going strong. The wrist mounted flail seemed to sing as the chain flew through the air, dragging the tire-sized bludgeon at the end behind it. It was an easy weapon to lose control of, but Aethyr had years of practice. She was better than making mistakes.

                “Hmmm, and I thought I’d seen the worst tempers out there already,” Cinder commented smugly from nearby, watching with amusement as her newest soldier guided the flail’s chain with both hands in a twirling dance of death. “At this rate, Vale will either run out of Grimm, or the forest will run out of trees. But by all means, keep going. I’ve had a boring week.”

                Aethyr spun on her heel and slammed Shattered Earth’s business end down on the skull of a Beowolf, cratering the earth as black blood sprayed her ankles. “You said,” Aethyr snarled, winding the flail’s chain back up. “…that you could get my ungrateful brat back to me, no questions asked. Beacon is RIGHT. THERE. Why shouldn’t I consider the deal over and grab him now?”

                Cinder’s gaze narrowed, and she stepped briskly out of the shadows with practiced elegance that did nothing to mask the clear malice about her. “Our deal, Aethyr, was that you provide a service for me, and _then_ you’ll get your son back, not before,” Cinder reminded her. “You have yet to keep your end of the bargain, and while I may be more forgiving than my allies, you would be smart to avoid giving me a reason to punish you.”

                The two of them locked eyes for a solid minute, as if both were trying to kill simply with their gaze. Aethyr, a full head taller than Cinder, did her best to put some fear into her unwanted friend, but relented when she heard a distinct crackling of glass. Several obsidian daggers floated around her neck, all poised to kill on Cinder’s command.

                “I can always find another to fill your position,” Cinder threatened, as the daggers inched closer to Aethyr’s throat. “You can’t show your face in the city without being arrested, given the manhunt for you that’s in progress, and I can’t let you give away our position when the Atlasian military is floating right over our heads. I’ll get Verris back to you soon enough, but you would do well to learn the value of patience.”

                Aethyr eyed the daggers warily, and grunted in annoyance. “Fine,” she growled from between her teeth. “There’s more than enough prey in these woods to keep me occupied for a few hours anyway. Now put those butter-knives away; they look ridiculous.”

                Cinder let out a small laugh, and Aethyr actually cringed at the sound in spite of herself. This was not a woman who laughed even on her best days, that much was clear. All the same, the knives dissolved in the air with a sound like clinking glass shards, and Aethyr finally drew breath comfortably again.

                “Sometimes vulgar displays of power are called for, Mrs. Emedio,” Cinder told her leaning up against a tree. “You seem like you don’t need reminding, however. Now, your guests are clearly waiting. Attend to them as you like.”

                Aethyr turned around to see an Ursa Major lumbering into the clearing, drawn by the smells of death and decay. It was a massive creature, easily the size of a truck, but Majors always were, and they fell so easily. Aethyr loosened her grip on the chain, allowing the flail to slam down into the dirt threateningly before she gripped the chain in both hands, twirling on her heels as she gathered Shattered Earth’s momentum in a ballet of elaborate spins and contortion before she was finally in range of the beast. It let out an annoyed roar, and began charging her as she continued her frenzied dance, the chain and flail swirling majestically around her…

                And then she stopped mid-spin, allowing the inertia of her movements to carry the heavy steel bludgeon through the air and into the beast’s skull, cratering the bony mask inward horribly for the half-second before Shattered Earth scooped all of the beast’s head above the lower jaw clean off, splattering the remains around the clearing. The beast fell immediately, and Aethyr reeled the chain back in, panting.

                The dancing form which was necessary for her to use Shattered Earth properly was always draining, demanding of both her strength and dexterity to execute. She had spent years developing the form in Beacon under Ozpin’s guidance, bruising herself with the practice flail when she mistimed a movement, twisting her ankles and straining her shoulders more times than she could count, and none of it had stopped her. By the time she had graduated, she had created her own martial art specifically in order to use such a destructive weapon as Shattered Earth without risking her own injury, and she had never been prouder of herself.

                Of course, there had been times she _thought_ she had been prouder, but she was a foolish girl back then, immersed in the lies of Faunus and the White Fang and their delusions of _equality…_

                A Creep that had snuck past her notice in her reverie bit her leg, and Aethyr’s baleful glare snapped onto the primitive beast as she tapped her semblance, bathing in a violent purple aura. Her vocal cords trembled with energy, and her lungs filled with something denser and heavier than air as she readied her body to vent on this foolish creature.

                “ **Get off of me, and then bite that tree root over there** ,” Aethyr commanded, her Fear semblance lashing from her throat and wrapping around the Creep’s neck like a whip.

                The Grimm responded immediately, releasing her leg from its bony maw and retreating in terror to the tree Aethyr had pointed to, gripped by the smoky wisps of Aura that coiled out from around her head. It lowered its jaw, and then snapped it shut around the tree root.

                “ **Now stay there, and don’t let go _,_** ” Aethyr commanded, approaching the beast slowly.

                                It wanted to run, she could see that in its eyes. The second it felt her Aura lash out, it knew, even a Creep knew, that she was not an enemy that could be devoured so easily. Every feeble survival instinct in its body had to be screaming out for it to run, or hide, or even fling itself from a cliff, but it could not. That was the nature of Aethyr’s power, of the Fear semblance. It deprived targets of the ability to fight or refuse a command, but not their ability to understand what was happening.

                There had been a time when Aethyr feared her semblance. When she had opened her mouth one day and something horrible came out…

                _The dog whimpered in fear as its limbs moved against its will, slowly bringing it closer and closer to the little girl who had scared it so badly. It didn’t trust humans, Aethyr knew that, but she just wanted to feed it. It looked so hungry, and she didn’t need the food in her hand._

_Its tail was clearly between its legs, and it had already wet itself, and yet it was still approaching Aethyr in spite of the fearful whining. That was when she noticed the dark purple aura surrounding the poor creature, the same aura surrounding herself. Her Aura, she realized. All she had done was told it to come back to her…_

_Immediately, Aethyr was beside herself in horror, trying to figure out how to shut this awful ability off, wanting more than anything to let the dog go, or to let it know she didn’t mean to do this to it. She just wanted to feed him._

_Finally, the aura disappeared, and Aethyr found the terrified stray shaking in front of her outstretched palm, which was holding a single piece of cooked chicken. In a much quieter, shaking voice, she pleaded: “please, eat something. I’m so sorry.”_

_The creature fled, leaving her alone in the yard as her father continued drinking on the porch…_

For months after that, Aethyr had been afraid to speak a single word, terrified by the knowledge that she could use that voice on creatures, and people. It scared her, reminded her of her father and how he had always raised his voice the second an inconvenience raised its head. After a year, people assumed she was mute.

                Father had joked that it was the most relaxing part of parenting he’d ever experienced, through his usual drunken haze. She ended her silence that day, and made his permanent.

                But that had all been so very long ago, when she was weak, frightened, and cowardly. She had killed that Aethyr long ago, buried the memory of her in that shallow grave with Sear’s body for good. It was fitting that way; he got to be buried alongside the delusional image of the woman he thought he knew forever, while she got to spit in the grave before filling it.

                The Creep hissed and groaned in fear as Aethyr drew closer, unsure of her intentions. She had done this many times before with her prey, and once when a man tried to mug her. The White Fang under Sienna Khan had become famous for a very specific way of killing enemies, one that humiliated the victims moments before death, and one Aethyr found surprisingly gratifying. It began with telling the target to lie down and bite the curb of the street…

                Aethyr brought her foot down _hard_ on the Creep’s neck, snapping part of a vertebra but not killing the beast. It choked out in pain, and she smashed her heel into its neck again, silencing the cries and causing the body to go limp. This toy was of no more use to her now.

                “You really were meant for this line of work, weren’t you?” Cinder remarked. “No so-called ethical Hunter would ever have a real use for a semblance like yours, but you? You know better than to waste it.”

                “Why wouldn’t I use power if I have it?” Aethyr snapped, reeling Shattered Earth back in before collapsing the iron bludgeon into a much more compact cylinder.

                “Exactly,” Cinder continued, causing a flame to flicker in her hand as she snapped her fingers theatrically. “Power is meant to be used, and those who let it sit abandoned…are naught but garbage.”

                A White Fang soldier scurried into the clearing, gasping for breath before the two of them. Aethyr briefly considered reactivating her flail for some quick enjoyment, but thought better of it as Cinder crossed her arms expectantly.

                “Well, what is it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at the masked man. “Has our little friend decided to cooperate?”

                The White Fang soldier nodded breathlessly. “Ran ahead…to give…a fair warning that he was coming,” he wheezed. “Found him…covered in blood.”

                “Oh, Nathan, you never do change,” Cinder mused. “Come, Mrs. Emedio, I have a colleague I want you to meet.”

                Aethyr simply grunted in response, sliding Shattered Earth into a storage compartment on her forearm before following her employer further into the woods.

                The sound of a rattling cage could be heard nearby, along with unpleasant growls and snapping. Aethyr rearmed her flail carefully, recognizing the snapping as that of a Grimm’s bony jaw plates clacking together. Cinder simply laughed again.

                “Good instincts, but you needn’t worry,” Cinder assured her as the White Fang soldier pulled aside a patch of tall grass to allow his boss easier access to the area. “Nathaniel just isn’t…all himself sometimes.”

                As Aethyr entered the new grove, a sound of revulsion escaped her throat at the sight of the caged thing before her. It was the size of a human, roughly speaking, and stood on its hind legs comfortably, but had the appearance of an emaciated Beowolf Alpha. Long, stag-like antlers protruded from its canine skull-plate like a crown of bone, and as it saw Cinder, the bone plates surrounding the jaw shifted into what looked like a mockery of a human smile.

                “Ahhhh, Cinder, it’s been too long,” the beast spoke, its voice resembling that of a crocodile’s guttural, vibrating croak. “Have you brought Us a snack? You really shouldn’t have, but We never refuse a polite gift…”

                “She’s working for me, sorry,” Cinder interrupted with a smile. “I’m glad we found you. I was worried your…better half, shall I call him, was getting the hang of reigning you in, and that would’ve made things complicated.”

                “Lesser half, not better,” the beast replied derisively. “He thought he could keep control by starving Us into weakness. Kept Us from eating a pair of Vacuoans in the city the other night. But he’s not coming back out for a while now.”

                “Cinder, what is this…thing?” Aethyr asked in horror, trying to make sense of this Grimm that was very clearly speaking common human language.

                “Ah, where are Our manners? We are Nathaniel Hawke Browne, at your service,” the creature introduced itself with a dramatic flourish and bow. “You smell like a Huntress. We’ve eaten a lot of Huntresses before. Hope you didn’t know any of them.”

                “This Grimm has a name?” Aethyr said, dumbfounded.

                                “He’s not really a Grimm,” Cinder corrected her. “There’s actually a human in there somewhere under all of that tar and bone named Nathaniel. However, his semblance is this creature you see now. In danger, Nathan can release this beast, transform into it, but it has control until it is no longer hungry. We’ve done great work together, haven’t we, Nathan dearest?”

                “You’re an excellent flirt, Miss Fall, but you know Our appetites lie elsewhere,” the creature named Nathan replied. “We heard you were planning something big, and when you plan big, We eat hearty. Nathan has kept Us from Our enjoyments, so if you have an offer, We’re positively _chomping_ at the bit for some work.”

                “As it just so happens, I have a special task for you,” Cinder crooned, caressing the beast’s lower jaw with the tip of a finger. “But it’ll be a while before we’re ready. In the meantime…”

                Cinder snapped her fingers, and a struggling police officer, no, a detective, was dragged towards the cage by White Fang fighters. “I think our reunion calls for a celebratory feast, don’t you?”

                “No, please! I’ll burn all of my notes, all of the evidence!” the detective, whose badge read ‘H. Weston’ pleaded desperately as he was pulled closer to the slavering beast. “I can make sure the trail leading to you is gone for good, just don’t hurt me!”

                Aethyr curled her lip uneasily as Cinder simply smiled at the detective’s feeble attempts to escape. Nathan, on the other hand, was licking his horrid teeth hungrily.

                “Cinder, you always are so very good to Us,” Nathan laughed, snapping at the unfortunate detective menacingly. “Perhaps you’ve a bottled vintage for Us to wash him down with?”

                Cinder reclined in a wooden chair, pouring herself a glass of wine as her evil smile grew. “Sadly, no one on the menu is a vintage tonight,” she said, as the cage door was opened and Weston was shoved inside. “But give me a bit more time, and there’s a certain shopkeeper who might suit your unique palate.”

                “NO, DUST PLEASE NOOOOO!” Weston screamed, right before Nathan lowered his jaw around his head and snapped it shut, severing the man’s skull from his body in a crunching spray of blood. Aethyr felt her bile rising in her throat as she watched Nathan tear the detective’s corpse apart messily, crunching through ribs and gristle to devour the muscle and organs within. Meanwhile, Cinder simply watched calmly from nearby, elegantly sipping from her wine glass as the gory display continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I love being able to just churn these out again.
> 
> After having established Aethyr as more than just part of a backstory (and as the serious plot villain she is), I wanted to take the camera away from the main team and put it on the psychotic woman herself, to give you readers a glimpse of what she's really like in her element. Summary? It's never pleasant.
> 
> I also wanted to bring back Nathan Browne, because he was never meant to be a one-off villain, and I have long term plans for him. That, and it is very, VERY fun to write villains like him, probably because there's that element of "appeasing demons to maintain status quo" to his working relationship with Cinder. Keep your eyes peeled for more him, although maybe not so much in this Volume as there will be in Volumes 3 and onward.
> 
> Finally, a little disclaimer: the flashback of Aethyr's childhood is meant to flesh her out as a character, not justify what she does or anything like that. Aethyr had a bad upbringing, sure. She still decided to be an active abuser and horrible person, and giving her backstory is not meant to change our understanding of her as a cruel, horrible woman.


End file.
